Review: Timing the Infinite by Nathaniel Schmeling

For those who look or think about the world differently, life can be a minefield of isolation, confusion, despair… and occasionally hedonism, but it also offers the potential for bizarre, one-of-a-kind storytelling. In Timing the Infinite, author Nathaniel Schmeling embarks on a brilliant linguistic roller coaster ride, one packed with import, introducing a myriad of unforgettably weird and profound characters.

Stranger is an apt name for the protagonist, as he seems to represent a massive bundle of “otherness” and embraces the unknown. A brilliant programmer with a multilayered façade of nihilism and perceived freedom, he is actually an existential wreck, plagued by philosophical questions to which there are no clear answers. Locked in the prison of collegiate thinking, despite academia’s protest to the contrary, Stranger sees the workings of the world through the mind of a madman and the words of a drunken poet.

As any dark and imaginative novel demands, this anti-hero must face a myriad of challenges – from his own identity within his circle to the inner workings of a woman who he may just be in love with. Yet what does a drug-taking chameleon with no destiny to speak of know about love and pain? What can addiction, the prospect of perpetual failure, and the threat of experiencing true loneliness after feeling the warmth of affection do to a man? Given that Stranger is already questioning so much about existence, the events of this novel paint a stark and unique portrait of self-discovery.

Reminiscent at times of Tom Robbins, Thomas Pynchon, and Jack Kerouac, Timing the Infinite is an expressive and enlightening novel of love and loss. With an obvious obsession with language and ornate description – which fits ideally with Stranger’s obsessive and prophetic mind – this book is not for the faint of heart, nor for those who are afraid of difficult language. Even the banalities of life take on a dark beauty in these pages, because Schmeling clearly prides himself in writing sentences with the epic scope of layering instruments in a symphony.

Schmeling manages to make every scene a visceral kaleidoscope, and also an exhausting war against clear speech. This makes the novel challenging to be sure, but the cumulative effect is to make one look at the world, and language, differently – putting the reader in a similar place of existential crisis as the lead character. While this can be tiring, and even frustrating at times, the greater message of this book is worth the deeper plunge, a slower read, and a more patient mind.

What’s striking about Schmeling’s narrative style is the book’s overall economy, with few wasted words even with its complexity, coupled with an eerie, disturbing tone from start to finish. Whereas many authors will write deeply complex and philosophical novels for the sake of being clever, this book feels ripped from Schmeling’s deepest self. If you are prepared for a challenging and soulful read, then Timing the Infinite will be a profound pleasure, and the sort of book that is difficult to forget.

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